


Generations of Hate and Love

by mondObelisk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Currently SFW, Family Grudges, Gen, High School AU, Human AU, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondObelisk/pseuds/mondObelisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ludwig Beilschmidt was in his second year of high school, he didn't expect to form a rivalry with his most cheerful classmate, Feliciano -- much less to have that based upon the rivalry of their grandfathers. But when he puts himself in a fight, he has learned to know his enemy. What he learns about Feliciano Vargas could lead to his victory. Or, if he cannot keep from stumbling over his words and his emotions, it could lead to a complete reversal of their families' fortunes...and, perhaps, love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discoveries are Made

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, and of the Hetalia characters or franchise, or these characters. Please see the end for more notes on the chapter. Thanks go to my beta, who has really helped this story along, but is still anonymous.

            “Ludwig,” a voice called through the house. A blond boy, sixteen years old and already quieter than his adult counterpart, Gilbert, looked up. He blinked owlishly, the book in his hands shutting on its own as he relaxed his grip on the pages.

            “Ja?” he replied, sitting up straighter and tensing to stand and find his grandfather if needed.

            Footsteps approached, and Ludwig shut the book fully, already certain that he had lost his place.

            “You go to the district high school, don’t you?” his grandfather, Anshelm Beilschmidt, asked, stepping into the room on too-young feet.

            Ludwig tried to resist rolling his eyes. He really did – but his grandfather was his legal guardian, and set up all of his schooling.

            “I do,” Ludwig replied slowly, avoiding the ever-stern gaze of Anshelm. “It’s the only public school I can go to while we live here, remember? It’s called Calvaria High School. You went to open house?”

            “And do you know of one Feliciano Vargas?” Anshelm asked, eyes narrowed – Ludwig looked for long enough to see that, at least.

            He nodded, then replied, “He’s in my year. Why, though? Do you know him?”

            “I know his grandfather,” Anshelm answered. Ludwig looked at him sharply.

            “You do?” he asked. “But how?”

            “We went to high school together, unfortunately,” Anshelm explained. “We were in the same year, too, you know.”

            “I thought he was from Italy, though,” Ludwig mused. “Feliciano has quite the accent, from what I’ve heard – and he talks quite a bit, so that’s not hard.”

            Anshelm grunted, shrugging before replying, “We both went to a boarding school in Switzerland. It was a good school, and it was safe, and there were plenty of languages there. He might have gone back to Italy after high school ended. Neither of us tried to keep in touch – we didn’t part on good terms.”

            Ludwig frowned, picking at the hangnails on his thumb. Something about this was different; Anshelm usually didn’t talk for long or about much but necessities for the present moment. For him to reminisce about a childhood Ludwig had known no details of before was…odd.

            “What happened that you two hated each other so much?” he finally asked, barely above a whisper. Anshelm still seemed to hear him, moving his jaw slightly as if chewing something very small as he always did when he was thinking. When Anshelm answered, it was slow, the words picked over with extreme care.

            He said, “It wasn’t always like that. At first, in our freshman year, we were close friends; he came to my house often, babysat my younger cousins when they came to visit, though that was pretty rare.” Ludwig laughed softly to himself; he could imagine that a boarding school wouldn’t take lightly to a bunch of young children in the dorms, even if it was a high school – especially if they were anything like Gilbert.

            “In fact,” Anshelm said, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “we ran for class positions together that year. He was president, if I recall correctly, and I was vice president.”

            “But you said that you two were enemies?” Anshelm raised an eyebrow at Ludwig, and he quickly corrected himself, “Or, well…implied, I guess.”

            Anshelm nodded, sitting on the couch next to Ludwig. The tension did not leave his shoulders, but the motion seemed to be more paternal than was usual. There was something militant in the older man, something of someone who had seen too much pain to let themselves go completely.

            “He called himself Romulus, by the way. I don’t know if that was his real name, and I never really paid too much attention to his class records, but he called himself that. Some romantic ideals he spouted about the Roman Empire and Romulus and Remus; I could never tell how much he believed, but the girls he courted certainly became enamoured with it.”

            “Courted?” Ludwig replied. “Was it a co-ed school?”

            “Yes, it was,” Anshelm answered tersely. “He slipped behind on schoolwork, started paying lackeys off to help him scrounge up the help. If the administration ever found out about it, he would have been expelled, but no one ever _saw_ anything, and he was smart enough to change little things here and there.”

            Ludwig’s eyes widened. Romulus had cheated his way through school, and yet he had been class president? The idea was…wrong. Surely Feliciano wasn’t anything like him, though, was he?

            Anshelm cleared his throat before continuing, “In the class government, though, he took on more and more power. He was a good speaker, and he knew how people thought. Half of the people there voted for what he wanted without ever knowing it. The other half were trying to earn favours from him.”   

            “What did you do?” Ludwig asked. “You fought it, didn’t you?”

            “As best I could, yes,” Anshelm agreed. “But he was socially powerful, and cunning. From the outside, he was the perfect teenager; class president, high marks in all of his classes, and even in good sports competitions. He loved wrestling, of course.

            “Over time, I lost more and more power; by the end of the year I was more like a servant or a paper boy than anything. He made decisions, and I made them official for the school. With everyone else supporting him, there was nothing more I could do,” Anshelm explained.

            “The next year,” he continued, “we both ran for class president. Romulus was doing well, of course; everyone voted for his charm and wit. But in the final stages of the election process, we had a debate, and even though it wasn’t official it was public. I made points that dismantled his campaign.”

            “Did he still win the election?” Ludwig asked. Anshelm shook his head.

            “I won,” he explained, “but barely. And the rest of the year, rumours flew about me; no one would meet my gaze or touch me, and everyone whispered as soon as I passed. We kept on that way until senior year, when I ended up with a girl he has announced his love for. It ended up coming to blows.”

            Ludwig couldn’t help his gasp, but he quickly asked, “You started a fight?”

            Anshelm held up one finger, and clarified, “He started the fight, actually, but I finished it. The young woman, though, couldn’t take it. I never heard from her again, and when we ended up in our own careers…”

            “You keep clashing?” Ludwig asked.

            “We did. He worked at a company that tried to take down the one I owned. I managed to stop it, but by the end…well, I ended up losing my position. The company still exists somewhere, but the name has likely changed some, and I don’t know that I care to know what it’s doing at this point.”

            Ludwig frowned again. Feliciano _did_ flirt a lot, and that fit the image of Romulus that Anshelm had given him…but how much did that mean, really?

            “Ludwig, I don’t care what you do at your school so long as you’re safe and productive,” Anshelm finally said, standing again. “Just know that you likely can’t trust the family. I’ve seen how Romulus behaves. He holds grudges, and he will have tried to pass them down to his grandson.”

            “I understand,” Ludwig lied. Feliciano, be a cheater and a flirt? A flirt, obviously, fit him perfectly, but he worked hard enough to pass his classes. He always babbled on about art and food, and he tried to give hug therapy to anyone he saw who seemed grumpy in the halls. How could that kind of person be similar to the kind of person who would try to fight someone because they dated someone else, someone they proclaimed to love?

            It just didn’t add up, but something nagged at the back of Ludwig’s mind. This would not be the end of the story, or of Anshelm’s questions and concerns. No, there would be a lot more to deal with. He was certain of it.


	2. It Takes Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feliciano does not understand the hatred his Grandpa Ro holds for Ludwig at first. When he explains, however, what will change between the two? Worse than that is the brother who already hated Ludwig seeming to help Grandpa Ro despite his resentment to the older man as well. Which rivalry will win in the brother's heart?

            “Feli! Lovi!” a cheerful voice called. Feliciano bolted upright at once, but Lovino merely growled and turned away from the door their grandfather had just entered. The older brother always seemed to have something to be upset about with everyone.

            “Grandpa Ro!” Feliciano called, nearly skipping to the door.

            “Hello, Feli,” the man replied, grinning widely and tousling the small boy’s hair. “I came to check in on you and your brother.”

            “About time you remembered us,” a voice grumbled. Feliciano turned to see Lovino standing in the arch to the living room, feet spread wide and arms crossed.

            Feliciano chewed his lip anxiously, then said in the brightest voice he could muster, “Oh, Fratello, don’t be so sour! Grandpa Ro always visits us, doesn’t he?”

            “A legal guardian shouldn’t ‘visit,’ idioto,” Lovino snapped back. “That’s the point of _having_ a legal guardian.”

            Grandpa Ro looked between the two boys, then proclaimed that he brought souvenirs. Lovino scoffed at the words, not bothering to hide his rolling eyes, but Feliciano squealed and clapped excitedly, following his grandpa with bouncing steps.

            A click of his suitcase, and Grandpa Ro’s suitcase opened to reveal shining goods. Lovino tried to seem as disinterested as ever, scowling and standing when Feliciano and Grandpa Ro pulled out chairs, but his fingers trailed wistfully over the trinkets.

            “Oh! This looks like my classmate, Ludwig!” Feliciano exclaimed, carefully lifting a small replica of a painting. Grandpa Ro stiffened, but Feliciano continued to ramble about the muscular and angry German boy in his English class.

            “What’s his last name?” Grandpa Ro growled.

            Feliciano blinked, hands hanging in the air and sudden silence, but he recovered quickly, saying, “Oh, just Ludwig.”

            “He’s Ludwig Beilschmidt,” Lovino supplied, eyes narrowed. “What the hell do you care?”

            Grandpa Ro smiled, speaking through gritted teeth, “His grandfather is a back-stabbing son of a whore.”

            “Grandpa!” Feliciano explained, shock written over his face. “How could you say that? That’s really mean!”

            “Let me tell you about my sophomore year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not quite as satisfied with this chapter, but I don't think there's much I can do to really fix it. Hopefully you will all enjoy it regardless!
> 
> I also do apologise for any delays, as I am now entering senior year and writing a novel is taxing. Enjoy what I have to give, but I can do no more. Thanks go to the readers and do Llews Divad, my beta, who chose that name out of some ill-founded belief that I would not use it. Sorry, Llews.


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